Five Simple Words
by soyforramen
Summary: They really should have paid more attention in Runes. Who knew such a simple question could invoke years of ancient magic?
1. One

They really should have paid more attention in Runes when it came to binding words. Who knew such a simple question could invoke years of ancient magic?

When asking questions like this one, they really should have paid more attention in Runes. Questions such as these really have no business being anywhere near a Weasley, especially one married to the bachelor life. And answers such as this should never be spoken so simply by a woman as smart as she.

Five simple words were all it took. Without those words, neither would have dreamed of a situation like this.

One:

"Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?" Fred asked, fluttering his eyes and making kissing noises.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Really Ginny, why is it that I'm the one who has to stand up here? Can't you do it?"

"Of course not, Hermione. How weird would it be for my own brother to ask me to marry him? Now stand still or your hem will be off again," Ginny said through the pins she held in her teeth.

"I still don't know why your future sister-in-law isn't here. It's her wedding after all," Hermione said with a sniff, resigning herself to acting as the French woman's stand in.

"Not my fault French wizards have strange wedding traditions. Now act as if you were the French cow and say yes for once in your life, you stubborn thing," Ginny muttered as she pinched Hermione's calf. "Try it again Fred."

"Are you sure she'll say yes? I don't know if I can handle such rejection again," Fred teased.

"Oh get on with it you sodding git," Hermione muttered as she crossed her arms and refused to look at him.

If she was going to be forced to be Fleur's stand in for the rehearsal, Hermione wasn't going to make it easy on anyone let alone Fred Weasley. Leave it to the French to refuse to allow the bride and groom to be anywhere near the rehearsal, let alone have their names spoken before the wedding. Despite her protests it did make more sense to have Hermione stand in rather than Ginny, but could they not have picked someone better like Harry or even...

Hermione paused as a blush began to creep up her chest and she refused to let her thoughts go towards Ron. It was bad enough that they were still trying to find their footing around each other after the disaster that was Lav-Lav and Won-Won. If she even allowed herself to think towards that particular future, Hermione was afraid she wouldn't be able to finish preparations tonight. And if she weren't able to finish her final preparations she feared there wouldn't be a future for any of them much longer.

"Well? Get on with it then," Hermione demanded when she realized Fred was more focused on charming the flower vases than on the rehearsal itself.

"Bloody witch," Fred shot back under his breath.

"Fred," Ginny warned, waving a stick pin at him.

He held up his hands and sighed. "Fine, fine. Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, do me the highest honor of marrying me?" he asked, his every word drowning in sarcasm.

"Yes. It would make me the happiest witch in the world," Hermione bit out in a monotone voice.

Fred smirked and leaned towards her, his hand reaching out for hers as he slowly closed his eyes. In her surprise Hermione squeaked and stumbled off the box she'd been standing on, only to trip over Ginny still behind her. The twins began to cackle, their laughs echoing through the cathedral while Ginny and Hermione rubbed at their bruises. The hexes that the witches sent towards them were the subject of many a conversation whenever it came time to bring out the family albums, especially once the viewer realized exactly who the two old, bald men to the right of Bill were.


	2. Two

"Knock, knock," Hermione softly called out as she opened the door to the twin's room. Fred was likely still sleeping off the potions St. Mungo's had forced into him to help him heal, but she still wanted to try and catch him awake if she could. Honestly she'd never met a man more against bed rest and sleep than he was.

"'rmione?" Fred mumbled groggily. He tried to sit up and managed to catch the bandage wrapped around his head on the bed frame.

"No, don't sit up just yet," Hermione whispered as she rushed to his side. "You know it will only aggravate things if you do," she told him as she gently removed the cloth from the wooden frame. "I've only come to bring you a cup of your Mum's soup."

"Prob'ly another round of that poison again," he muttured, his eyes falling shut against the potions.

Hermione frowned and bit her tongue to keep from chastising him as she helped him sit up. "It's not poison, Fred. It's medicine. And it's time for your next round if you want to keep feeling as good as you do now."

"Ugh. Send it to George, he needs it more than me."

"Unlikely," she muttured, placing the last pillow behind Fred's head. "Is that enough pillows for you?" Fred nodded and she turned to take stock of the tray of potions the staff had left for her. The staff had begun refusing to give him his medicine, instead calling in his family to administer the potions as they'd had greater success in the past.

"Besides, we both know George feels no shame in protecting himself against a falling wall. You on the other hand seem to have a hero complex," Hermione said as she popped the cap off the soup tin. "And George is the last person who needs any healing. Of all of us he's the only one who's come out of the fighting without a scratch on him.

"Lucky bastard," Fred said with a smile. "Not only does he get to make holey jokes, but he also doesn't have to stomach that horrible mess."

"Keep that up and I won't give you your pain potions," she threatened lightly as she tipped the first of the pain potions into his mouth.

"George can bugger off, you're my saint now," Fred said with a sigh of relief as the potion dulled the throbbing in his head and chest. "If you keep this up I'll have to ask you to marry me."

Hermione laughed softly and reached for the second in his long row of potions. "And I suppose that means I have to say yes when you finish all of these?"

"Of course," he said, winking at her from the one eye that was still visible under the wrappings. "How else will I thank you for saving my life?"

She smiled at his ridiculousness and reached for the second, a toxic smelling vial that was cold to the touch.


	3. Three

"There you are Granger, thought you'd up and disappeared on us again," Fred's voice rang out.

Hermione opened one eye to look at him before closing it and rolling her head back to the side. "I was thinking about it. Not every day one gets to be leered at as the other woman," she said snidely.

Fred waved her comment away and sat down next to her on the couch. "Come now, if anyone was the other woman it's her, not you. You're just the jilted lover, the what-if, the what-could-have-been, the –"

"Not helping, Fred," Hermione said through clenched teeth. The tension behind her eyes increased and she raised her hand to rub at her temple.

"Sorry love."

She sighed and rolled her neck to the side, hoping that some of the tension would release. "What is it about me anyways? All of my ex-boyfriends have decided to get married, none of them to me. The only common denominator in all of this is that I'm the bad egg. Or am I missing something here?" she asked, a pleading note to her voice.

Fred stilled and looked at her. If she squinted hard enough she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to find a way to break the bad news gently. Instead he surprised her with a softness she hadn't seen in him before. "If it were me, I'd never have thrown you under for her," he said, his voice so full of sincerity that tears began to well in her eyes.

Hermione wiped at her eyes and Fred looked away. When she'd had enough time to compose herself, he glanced back at her and smiled. "Now then. Let's see if we can't find something to take your mind off this whole event," he said, his jovial nature back in full force as he picked up her legs and plopped them into his lap. He wasted no time in slipping her shoes off one by one, waggling his eyebrows at her while he did so.

"Fred what on earth are you, oh that's lovely," Hermione murmured as his knuckles began to dig into the arch of her foot. "If I'd have known this was one of your many talents I'd have blackmailed you so much more in school."

Fred smirked and moved on to the heel of her foot. "So you do admit it was blackmail? Good to finally be vindicated after all these years."

Hermione let out a soft moan of pleasure as he massaged her feet. "When did you learn how to do this?"

"I have many talents even you could never dream of Granger. Though if you get enough whiskey in me tonight I might be gracious enough to practice them on you."

"Pervert," she said without any heat.

"Prude," he shot back.

They sat that way, Fred massaging the tension from her feet, Hermione leaning back with her eyes closed. Eventually he shifted as he found a particularly rough knot in her calf. Hermione tensed before relaxing as the muscle began to release. "Marry me," she breathed out as he moved to her other leg.

"Gladly. Though you'll have to get through Alicia first. I'm afraid she's higher on the list than you these days."

"Oh? And when did that happen? I thought you were with that Zenya girl last week."

Fred shrugged. "Didn't like the way she sang in the shower."

"You're so odd."

"Says the woman who asked me to marry her based solely on my hands," he teased.

"Any woman who wouldn't after this is insane."


	4. Four

"Well, there goes another one," Fred lamented as he threw himself down onto the couch.

"Aren't you supposed to be happy for your brother? Hermione asked as she turned another page in her book.

"Aren't you supposed to be happy for your best friend?" he shot back. Fred leaned forward and turned her book towards him to read the spine. "Spinal meningitis? Bit morbid for an engagement party?"

"And Ron marrying a Slytherin isn't morbid?" Hermione said, far more bitterly than she would have liked.

"Touché. Want to get out of here and get a real drink?" Fred asked.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "As tempting as that sounds it will only make your mother scheme even more. If I leave mysteriously she'll just get it in her head that I'm still pining after Ron."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Aren't you?"

She snorted and set her book down on the coffee table. "Please. Any feelings I may have harbored for him were dashed when I watched him picking his nose while making eggs this morning."

Fred gagged. "I ate those eggs this morning."

"I warned you to eat only the pastries," she said with a smile.

"Yes, yes, and if we'd all listened to you the world would be a much better place. But you still haven't told me about Mum's scheming."

"She pulled me aside this morning to try and convince me to shamelessly throw myself at Ron before the party. She even offered to clear out the entire house if I wanted to do it without clothes, but made me promise that I'd at least put protective charms on the furniture if I decided to go that route."

Fred snickered and glanced over to where his mother was trying desperately to keep Daphne's aunt away from the cabinets. "I can't say I'm not surprised after she's been acting today. You'd think it was Ron's wake, not his engagement party."

Hermione snorted. "Today? She's been acting like that ever since we broke up eight years ago. Dropping hints every Sunday about the best ways to get him back. I was almost tempted to make up a fiancé to keep her from pestering me about it this week."

"I could always drop to one knee right here in front of everyone," he offered with a wink. "Say those words I know you've been longing to hear all these words. 'Hermione Granger, will you marry me?'"

"Yes because that would solve all my problems," Hermione scoffed. "Just think of the rumors."

"Exactly, just think of them," Fred said with a Cheshire grin. "The biggest thing that hit the papers since they found out Harry knocked up Gin. We might even eclipse that. 'War Heroes Elope on Eve of Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding. Panic Ensues. Silver Missing.'"

"Please tell me it's Lee's knicking the silverware again. I love Daphne, but I'm pretty sure her aunt's trying to take the good silver," Ron said as he wandered over to them, handing Hermione a plate of cheese and sitting on the loveseat across from them. "Now why are we causing panic this time?"


	5. Five and Six

"Nev, I really don't see what the problem is. Just ask her if you're so sure about it," Fred said as he nicked a chip off his plate.

Neville sighed and ran a hand through his quickly thinning hair. "It's not as simple as that. I'm not like you or your brothers. I'm afraid I'll muck this up again. That's why I came to you, seeing as how you always seem to have a new girlfriend.

Fred shrugged and glanced over at the buffet line looking for some back up. "You won't muck this up Neville. If you're so sure she's the one you're supposed to marry then just get one with it. You're as capable as the rest of us. Look, I'll show you how simple it is. Oi, Granger!" he yelled across the hall.

Every head in the room whipped around and stared between the two of them. Hermione's face flushed crimson from the attention and she stalked over to their table. "What do you want, Weasley? My boss is right over there if you've forgotten," she hissed, slamming her tray down on the table next to them.

Fred waved off her ire. "Not like anyone in the Ministry stays awake long enough to pay attention at these things. What's really important is that Ol' Nev here's got a problem and needs our help."

Hermione's eyes went wide and her anger was quickly forgotten. "What's wrong Neville? It's not that nasty rash again is it?" she asked as she slid into the chair across from Neville.

It was Neville's turn to blush as Padma and Cho walked by, giggling at the questions. "Er, no. That's all better now thankfully. It's more to do with a woman," he stuttered.

"Not just any girl, mate. Neville's finally decided to propose," Fred told her.

"Oh that's wonderful Neville. But haven't you only been dating two months? Are you certain?" Hermione asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Neville nodded. "As sure about this as I am about my plants. I love her and I'm certain I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She's the first person who makes me feel like I can do anything, and she's the first person I want to talk to when I wake up."

"If you're so sure about it why would you need our help?"

"I just know I'll be absolutely pants at proposing. I'm not good with words like you are, and I'm not as confident as Fred is. Maybe you can help me come up with what I should say?"

"Well, we can give you a template, but really you'll have to come up with the main parts yourself. Just start off by facing her, Fred, you be her and I'll be Neville," Hermione instructed, turning Fred to face her, "and start off with something along the lines of, 'Darling, I know we've known each other a few months, but I feel as if we're destined to be together.'"

"Destined?" Fred asked, his eyebrow raised in skepticism.

"Yes, now shush and just listen. 'Despite our short time together, I've learned so much about you that I know we're meant to be. I know your favorite color is," Hermione paused and looked at Neville.

"I'm not sure," he said with a shrug. "Red perhaps? She does wear a lot of it."

Hermione pursed her lips, but continued on. "Alright. No colors then. 'Your favorite song is." Again, Neville shrugged. "Favorite food? Book? Quidditch team?"

Each time Neville shook his head, becoming more and more depressed when it became clear how little he really knew about her. At the end of her questioning, Neville sunk down and laid his head on the table. "I'm absolutely rubbish at this. I know nothing about her. This will never work," he groaned.

"There, there mate. Look, it's simple enough. Just turn to her, conjure up a rose, or lily, or whatever flower girls think is romantic these days, and look deep in her eyes. Then tell her, 'Love, you're the best things that's happened to me. It's early in our relationship but I can't wait to get started on the rest of our forever together. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?"

"Yes, that sounds about right," Hermione said with a nod.

Neville lifted his head off the table and looked at them. "That doesn't even sound like me. She'll know I got it off of someone else and what way is that to start a marriage?"

Hermione sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. "Then say something along the lines of what you told us earlier. 'I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm more sure about us than I've ever been before. Will you marry me?"

"Of course, if that doesn't work you can always sign up to be a tester for our new Sneak-A-Long loafers to avoid her for the rest of your life," Fred said with a grin. Hermione slapped his arm and frowned at him. "Only joking. Either way, if you're this sure about marrying her then she's bound to say yes. Who is this bird anways?"


	6. Seven

"Why are you out here moping? Aren't you supposed to be inside regaling the single women with tales of your greatness?" Hermione asked.

Fred shrugged and continued staring at the garden. When he didn't answer, she sighed and stepped back inside the house. A few minutes later Hermione returned and sat down next to him, this time armed with half a pie and two forks. He took one from her wordlessly.

"Now what's going on with you? Everyone else is having an absolutely lovely time tonight. At your own birthday party, may I remind you."

"You may not. And nothing's going on with me," Fred said softly.

Hermione frowned and stood up, taking the tin with her before he could get a bite. "And here I thought you needed some cheering up. I suppose I'll just have to take this back inside with me."

Fred grabbed her arm before she could step away and tugged her back to the step. "I didn't say I didn't need cheering up."

"But you never said that you did need cheering up," she pointed out, holding the tin out to him.

Fred sighed and cut a too large bite. He chewed for longer than necessary and Hermione began tapping her foot as she waited for his answer.

"Doesn't it feel weird that everyone's married already? It seems they all decided that now's the best time to pair up. Almost like something's in the water."

"Don't tell me you're feeling left out, Mr. Weasley, bachelor extraordinaire," Hermione teased lightly.

"Almost," Fred admitted.

Hermione's smile fell quickly as she realized he was being serious. "But, you don't want to get married. Don't you?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I at least want the option," he told her. "I don't want to be at the end of my life and find out that everything that George and Ron have been raving about is right. That I've been missing out on something. I don't want to regret that I spent so much time on the shop and just wasting my time with petty things. But at the same time, I don't want to force a relationship into something it's not. I don't want to regret being pulled into something I don't really want just because everyone else is doing it."

"I understand," Hermione said lightly as she picked at the fruit that had fallen out of the crust. "Every now and then, I look at what Ron has. The kids. The house. The happy domestic bliss. And I can't help but wonder what if that had been us? What if I hadn't gotten cold feet about how fast our relationship was changing? What if I hadn't run away to Australia to escape everyone's expectations? But then I look at everything I have now that I wouldn't have had if I'd stayed. A fulfilling, challenging job. Friends and family who support me wholly in everything I do. A life I love every minute of. And I can't help but be happy about the decisions I made eight years ago, even if that does mean your mother constantly sets me up with every Weasley cousin known to man."

Fred snorted. "Lucky for you she's just about run out of those. Last I heard she's going to try for the sons in her knitting group. Real solid chaps, so long as you need them to pick up a dropped stitch now and again."

"Keep those threats up and I'll have to claim you as my plus one to family events." Hermione paused as she thought about it. "Now there's an idea. If neither of us are married by the time I'm 32, we could marry each other. If nothing else it will give your mother some peace of mind and drive Ron crazy."

"Not to mention the chaos that would ensue," Fred said with a grin. "What would you even do with an old man like me anyways? Work's all I ever think about and the only place I've slept consistently is under the potions bench at the shop. Something like that would do nothing for your social life."

"I'm glad your opinion of me is high enough to think I have a social life," Hermione said wryly. "I still maintain it's a good idea. It's not as if we'd ever ask anything of each other that's outside the norms of flatmates. You go about your business, I go about mine. We'd split the bills, fend off relatives at family events, generally make sure the other's eaten at some point in the last month. I wouldn't mind it."

The two sat in silence and finished off the rest of the pie, both thinking it over.

"It does have it's perks," Fred finally said when the last of the crust had gone. "Though why you'd ever want to be shacked up with me is anyone's guess. Last I heard you hated me."

Hermione shrugged and ate the last of the fruit. "And last I heard you'd been pining after Mildred Bukwort for years." Fred made a face at her suggestion. "Besides, it's not as if it's binding on either of us. Just a bit of fun is all."

"That and I highly doubt you'll still be single in three years. I saw the way Michael Smith was looking at you in there," Fred said with a wink and a nudge.

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. "Even if Michael was my type, I can't see being with him longer than a few weeks. He has no sense of humor. Next to him Percy's a riot and a half."

"Must be a real blighter then. Maybe I'll invite him round the shop when Ron won't go back to work," he said with a laugh. "I suppose it's not a bad sort of arrangement when you think about it. Kind of like Lee and Katie had for a while before Lee had to muck it up by falling in love with her.

"What? You think you'd be able to resist my womanly charms?" Hermione asked innocently enough.

Fred looked her over in her old leather flats and oversized sweater. "Damn, you're right. You've convinced me. Marry now," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "And here I was thinking you were playing hard to get."

He stuck his tongue out at her before leaning back onto his elbows to watch the sunset. "32 huh? Any reason for that?"

"Mum and Dad married when she was 32. I always imagined I'd be married by then," Hermione told him. "One of those romantic ideas that you pick up as a child and never can shake."

"Like Percy and his love of giving everything his owns a name starting with a 'P'. Three years then? I think we can both manage that. At least give us time to find a damn good therapist to keep us from killing each other."

Hermione snorted. "I don't think either of us make that much money."

"Well, you'll have to get on that. I require very extensive head care." Fred pointed to the side of his head that still bore a long, jagged scar.

"In more ways than one."

"Hey now, this is your future fiancé we're talking about here. Three years then? I think we can manage that. If neither of us are married in three years, we'll marry each other."

Hermione nodded. "Agreed. Unless you start balding. In which case I'll have to find someone with much better hair."

Fred gave her a disappointed look. "Love, I'm a master brewer. If anyone can brew better hair than me, I'll gladly give them everything in the shop I've given an 'F' name to."


	7. Magic, or a Lack Thereof

"Oi, you wanker, quit mucking about. We've got another thirteen crates to ship out before next week," George yelled from the far end of the potions room.

Fred gritted his teeth and did his best not to send a Fizzing Whizbee in his brother's direction. He'd been trying for three days to set the shielding charms, but with each passing day it became apparent there was something dreadfully wrong with his wand. If he couldn't get this sorted they'd be late on more than just one shipment. He tried one last attempt at the spell before groaning in frustration.

"Lee, can you come over here please?" Fred yelled, far too frustrated and desperate to get this damn project over with.

"What is it you need, my benevolent dictator?" Lee asked when he came over.

"Set the charms on these bloody robes will you? Need to head out for an appointment," Fred told him, the excuse falling lamely from his tongue.

"Oh? An appointment with Valerie, eh?" Lee asked, waggling his eyebrows at Fred before pulling his own wand out.

Fred clenched his jaw to keep from screaming. "No, this has nothing to do with her. Just don't let George know I've left early," he said before stalking out of the potions room. He wasn't sure who he needed to talk to, but he knew the best place to start would be Ollivander's.

xxxx

"Hermione dear, are you all right? You've been waving your wand about for the last ten minutes," Mrs. Weasley asked as she set the stack of dishes down next to the sink.

"I don't know. I haven't been able to cast a spell for almost a week now, and the spells that I manage don't do what they're supposed to," Hermione said miserably. She sniffed and rubbed her tears from her eyes. She'd never had any trouble with magic before her thirty-second birthday, so why was this happening now?

"Let me see it dear. I'm sure whatever it is we can fix," Mrs. Weasley said as she took Hermione's wand from her. "Now, _lava catino_ ," she ordered. With a sloppy start, the dishes began jumping in the soapy water before rinsing themselves off in the next basin. "Odd. You try it again dear. Perhaps it was just a bit blocked," Mrs. Weasley said, a puzzled expression on her face.

Hermione nodded and took the wand, desperately trying to ignore the tightening in her stomach. " _Lava catino_."

Again, nothing happened, and it took all of Hermione's strength to keep from crying. Noticing her distress, Mrs. Weasley placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it dear. Wands act up every now and then, it's an absolutely normal phase in every witches life. My sister had to go through it three times before finding out she had a severe allergic reaction to treacle. But if anyone knows what's going on with your wand, it will be Ollivander."


	8. Just Popping In

"So, suppose I'll see you on Wednesday then?" Fred asked as they reached Valerie's front door. She nodded and he smiled. Despite what George might have implied about her reasons for dating him, Fred did like her. Well enough to see her midweek at least.

"Yes. But you could come up for coffee now. I mean, if don't have other plans. And my roommate's out of town this week, so we can always do dinner at my place? Unless you want to go out," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Why would I make other plans when I knew I was seeing you tonight? We don't even have to have coffee if I come up," Fred said softly as he leaned in to kiss her.

His lips had barely touched hers when a loud popping followed by a bang came from the door behind them. Fred spun around, his wand already out at the ready, and pulled Valerie behind him.

"Granger? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Knickers of Margery Jourdemayne, I wish I knew," Hermione hissed as she pressed her hand against her head.

Fred wasted little time in bounding up the steps and kneeled down beside her. From her appearance it was clear she'd already settled in for the night. Unless the Ministry had started allowing its employees to come in their pajamas.

"How bad is it?" Hermione asked with a whimper.

He frowned and gently pulled her hand away from her head only to see blood streaming down the back of her head. "Bad enough for a field trip to St. Mungo's. Hope you're not too attached to those pajamas," he murmured.

Hermione started and he grabbed her arm to steady her. "Easy there. Don't try to move too quickly love, you've had a nasty bump." He glanced over at Valerie, only to find her arms crossed and lips pursed. "Sorry Val. Have to take a rain check on that coffee," he said as they passed her on their way to the apparition point.

And if her face was anything to go by he'd be taking an indefinite rain check on their next date.

xxxx

"Did you pick out those pajamas? If you did we're going to have to set up an intervention before you hit crazy-cat lady status," Fred told her as they sat in the waiting room.

"Shush. You're supposed to be nice to a concussed person."

xxxxx

"I'm really glad you decided to ask me over. I've had a lovely time tonight," Michael said with a smile.

"Me too. Though I still don't believe you're telling the truth about Whitely and that memory modifier," Hermione said as she set her wine glass down.

Michael laughed and held up his hands. "Believe what you want, but I promise. Mention chocolate covered coffee beans and he'll mambo straight to the canteen."

"I might have to try that Monday."

"Just make sure I'm around to see it," he said as he moved closer to her.

Hermione smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. It was nice despite them both being at an odd angle. A loud popping sound startled the both of them and a glance around showed nothing out of the ordinary.

"What the bloody hell am I doing here?" a voice from behind the couch cried.

Hermione shook her head at Michael when he began to dig around for his wand. Whoever it was they weren't a threat if they were allowed through her apparition wards. She leaned over the couch only to jump back as if stung.

"Fred? What the hell are you doing here? And why aren't you wearing trousers?" she cried out as she covered her eyes.

"I don't bloody know. I was in my own shower, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I'm here ," Fred said irritably. "Like the new curtains."

Hermione felt the couch shift as Michael stood up. "Regardless of why you're here, I think you should leave," he said stiffly.

Her hackles rose at his tone. Surely he wasn't trying to play the protective male after only a handful of dinners together. "Michael, he's a friend and this is my apartment," she warned.

"Look. Mate. As much as I'd love to leave, I don't know how many people shower with their wands on them. And George is currently entertaining so I doubt he'd like me wandering around starkers. Just let me grab some clothes and I'll leave."

"And why do you have clothes here? Just what is going on here?" Michael asked.

"It doesn't matter why he has clothes here," Hermione said shortly, done with his posturing. "Fred, cover yourself up with something while I go get you something to wear."

"Yes, Fred. Cover yourself up. Or are you trying something?" Michael asked. When it was safe, Hermione turned around to find him with his arms crossed, glaring at Fred.

"Caught me red-handed. I knew you'd be here tonight and I had to step in before something happened between the two of you. Had to make sure I stepped in before Hermione stole you from me," Fred said, his voice completely serious.

Hermione rolled her eyes at their childishness and stepped into her bedroom. Honestly, did boys ever grow up? As the two continued to snipe at each other she dug around for the clothes Ron had forgotten in her bag when they'd last gone camping. A loud crack caught her attention and she stilled fearing the worst.

"You sodding wanker, what was that for?" Fred's voice rung out, his words garbled almost to the point of incomprehensibility.

She grabbed the nearest clothes and ran out to the living room only to find Fred holding his nose, dripping blood all over her carpet, while Michael shook out his fist. Hermione frowned and grabbed Michael's jacket from the couch before storming over to him.

"You. Out. Now," she ordered as she shoved his jacket into his chest. The hand pointing towards the door shook with barely contained anger.

"Fine. All the better for me if this is the lot you hang out with," Michael said acridly as he stalked out the door.

"Bloody arsehole," Fred mumbled. "Why's he even here?"

"I decided to try out that fun you and George keep pestering me about. And look what it's done to my brand new carpets," she said as she tugged the throw higher up his waist. "Move you hand and let me see it."

Fred did as he was told and Hermione hissed at the sight. "'Fraid you won't make Ms. London this year. St. Mungo's it is then. Put these on then we'll floo over," she told him.

xxxx

"You couldn't have found anything better?"

"I happen to think those hot pants show off your legs rather well," Hermione said as she flipped through a magazine. "Besides, pink always has been your color."


	9. Worries and Wands

"I still don't know why you couldn't finish those orders," George called from the kitchen, his annoyance as clear as day.

"And I still don't understand why you're on me about it. They got finished a week ahead of deadline, didn't they?" Fred called back.

"By Lee. He seems to be doing a lot of your work lately."

Fred scowled, pulling on his boot and yanking at the laces. Ollivander had been next to useless when telling him about his wand. Instead the sodding git had suggested Fred lay off whatever illegal potion he'd been ingesting. Fred ground his teeth as he recalled that particular conversation. Anyone who knew them knew that neither of them would do anything to put their business in jeopardy, let alone take illegal potions for any reason. Potions that skirted the letter of the law, yes, but something strictly forbidden was off limits.

"And I haven't seen you do anything around the shop except work the counter these past few weeks," George continued. "We'll be behind on new product if this keeps up, especially with the Christmas season starting soon."

Fred grabbed at his other boot. "Wouldn't hurt you to start coming up with product instead of catering to your wife all the time," he muttered.

George still had no idea what was going on with his magic, or lack thereof. The last thing Fred needed was for his brother to turn into a mother bird, fussing and worrying over something that was likely to pass quickly enough. Even Mum had said it wasn't unheard of for a wand to start acting up or a wizard to go through magicless periods. So why pull George into his own personal hell when he was already worried enough about his pregnant wife.

"And why is your flat so dirty? You've never been one to skimp on the cleaning charms."

"I've been busy, that's all," Fred told him, shoving his useless wand into his pocket. "Haven't been home long enough to do anything but sleep and shower." And brood over take-out how worthless he was without a working wand.

George frowned when he walked into the kitchen. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me. Can we just get on to Mum's?" Fred stalked over to the floo before George had a chance to answer.

"Look, I'm just worried about you is all," George said as he followed him. "You keep popping in and out of the shop, I haven't seen you cast a spell in weeks. Ever since Granger's birthday party you've been in such a bad," George paused and Fred stifled a groan as he realized where his brother was going. "Does this have anything to do with Granger? Has something happened between the two of you?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Why is it whenever I'm in a bad mood you think it has to do with some bird? My life doesn't revolve around women."

"I'm not saying it does, but you do seem to be hanging out more than usual lately."

Fred snorted. "Two trips to St. Mungo's within a week of each other doesn't count as 'hanging out'," he said, reaching towards the floo powder.

George stared hard at his brother. "Well, if it's not a bird, what is it then? You're my brother. Aren't you supposed to tell me when something's going on so I can help you? You don't have to go through this alone."

Fred narrowed his eyes at the floo. If there was one thing a wizard didn't share with his family and friends it was a loss of magic. He knew all too well what would happen to him if his magic didn't come back. And he wouldn't take George down with him if this was as serious as he feared. "I've got it covered George. Just leave it alone," he said. He stepped into the fire before George could continue the conversation.

xxxxx

Hermione stared at the fire and fiddled with her wand. It had been almost a month since she'd been able to cast a spell and she still wasn't any closer to finding out the cause. When she'd taken the blasted thing to Ollivander's he'd been able to shoot off an almost perfect spell the moment he touched it. And when he had no answers for her, she'd thrown herself into every book that remotely touched upon a loss of magic. Yet none of the solutions they'd offered worked. Even the books in the restricted section of Hoggwarts barely touched upon the subject.

It seemed as if witches and wizards were set in their belief that one's magic was a constantly replenishing source. There was little to no research on those whose magic for all appearances had run out or weakened greatly. Instead, those unlucky few who found their magic drained were ostracized from the community and often their very existence was forgotten. It was a bleak future staring her in the face, especially as the Ministry was expressly forbidden from employing squibs of any sort.

"What's the matter with you now?" Ron asked as he walked into the sitting room with a chessboard under his arm. "You've been moping about for weeks now."

"It's nothing, Ronald," Hermione said shortly, setting her wand down next to her and jerking her book from the side table. She knew he didn't mean anything with his bluntness, but his tone wasn't helping her already foul mood.

"Fine. Don't have to bite my head off about it," Ron muttered as he began to set up the pieces.

The floo fired up and they both glanced towards the fireplace. Fred stepped through, followed closely by George. "I won't leave it alone when you won't talk with me," George said the second he stepped through. "'Lo Ron. Hermione," he said, giving them a nod.

"And I said I don't want to talk about it," Fred snapped back.

George sighed. "Fine. Come talk to me when you do," he said before storming off into the kitchen. Fred watched him leave before sitting down on the couch next to Hermione.

"What's wrong with you two now?" Ron asked.

Fred groaned and lay his arm across his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"Good thing you two are still single. Can't see how anyone would put up with either of those attitudes," Ron muttered.

Hermione sneered at him and reached for her wand, a number of curses flying through her mind. To her surprise it wasn't just hers she picked up, but a second, longer one as well. When she tried to pull them apart the two wands seemed to draw closer together.

"Whose wand is this?" she asked shakily.

Ron and Harry look up, both looking as confused as she felt. Fred glanced at her from under him arm and his face went ashen. "Granger, I don't know what you're playing at but this isn't funny," he said.

"I'm not playing at anything," she whispered. He held out his hand and she gladly passed both wands to him.

Fred rolled them around in his hands, inspecting them from all angles. Once he'd had his fill, he began to tug at them to try and separate them. When they didn't move, he grunted and began to tug harder. Hermione watched, horrified as her wand started bending.

"Stop, stop, you're going to break them," she yelped, reaching out her hand to hold his still.

Fred frowned and set the two wands on the chessboard in front of them. "What are we going to do?"

"Ollivander's," she rasped. All moisture had fled from her mouth and her limbs were shaking with fear. "He'll know what to do. He has to."

xxx

Just a quick note to point out that I'm going with the book's interpretation of squibs. The only squib shown is Filtch, and that's only because Dumbledore keeps him around. Every other mention shows that they're pretty much outside of the magical world, see the Weasley's squib cousin, a Muggle accountant of all things. And the extremes Neville's family went to when he didn't show signs of magic. (Dropping a child out of a window? Who does that?) Not to mention Gaunt's attitude towards his daughter. They just aren't a part of the magical world as presented to us by J.K. Rowling and it seems, to me at least, that they're pushed out of the wizarding world almost entirely.


	10. Runes and Other Ominous Words

"Mr. Ollivander, are you in?" Hermione called out as they walked into his dusty shop. "Mr. Ollivander, it's rather important."

A cough came from the back room and a cloud of dust billowed out of the door. "Whoever it is, we're closed," a gruff voice said. "You shouldn't even be in here. Come back tomorrow."

"Your sign's still up," Fred replied. "And you haven't even locked your door."

"Signs don't mean anything," Mr. Ollivander replied, finally coming around to the front of the shop. "Oh, Ms. Granger. I didn't expect to see you twice in one week. Mr. Weasley," he said, his address to Fred stiff.

Fred frowned at him and set the wands down onto the front counter. "Now do you believe me when I say there's something wrong with my wand?"

Ollivander raised an eyebrow as he picked the fused wands up. After he was satisfied with his inspection he looked at the two. "No sticking spells I take it?"

"Not unless someone has a death wish," Fred said darkly.

"No, nothing like that. We were sitting next to each other and they just stuck together," Hermione interjected.

"Hmm. Well, I would say that congratulations are in order. However I wouldn't suggest being apart for too long after the wedding. One normally can't separate newlyweds to begin with, yet you two seem to have been apart for at least a month."

"Married?" Hermione scoffed. "We're not married. We're not even dating."

"Not according to your wands. In my almost eighty years of wand craftsmanship there were only three times I saw wands stuck together like yours. The first was a duel gone horribly wrong. The other two were from married couples who decided to take after Muggles and separate for a time. And even they learned very quickly that if they wanted to retain their magic they had to learn to get along very quickly," Ollivander said gravely, staring at them over his glasses as if his point wasn't clear enough.

"No, I don't think you understand," Fred argued, holding up his left hand and picking Hermione's up. "We're not married. Neither of us have ever been married. See? No rings, no runes of any kind."

Mr. Ollivander frowned and inspected each of their hands in turn. "No visible runes, no. But perhaps," he trailed off, reaching for his own wand. He muttered a spell that Hermione couldn't quit catch and a blue light streamed out of the tip of his wand and hovered above the wands for a moment before twisting into a shape that looked remarkably like the rune for 'Bound'. Ollivander's eyes narrowed at the symbol and he demanded they place their hands on the counter. Fred began to argue with him, but a sharp repeated order was enough for him to place his hand on the counter next to his wand.

They watched nervously as the old wizard waved his wand and repeated the spell for a second time. This time the blue light shot out of their wands and hovered above their hands before a copy of the rune appeared on the back of Hermione's right hand and Fred's left. The light shimmered briefly before fading out into nothing.

Ollivander frowned and tapped his wand against his thigh. "And you've never been married?" Hermione shook her head. "Are you certain of this?"

Fred scoffed at the question. "Don't you think we would know if we took oaths in favor of each other?" he asked.

"No, I don't think much of anything about you boy, and you'll remember not to take that tone with me in my own shop," he snapped. "Now think, are you sure you've never taken vows in favor of each other?"

"Vows in favor of each other? What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, looking between the two wizards. As much as she knew about wizarding culture, there were still some areas she was woefully ignorant of, especially when she herself had never experienced it firsthand.

"Oh bugger it all," Fred said softly as the realization hit him. "Bill's wedding. We stood in as their substitutes. And at Ron's wedding. But we were only kidding, that shouldn't bind us."

Hermione's stomach began to lurch as she realized this was far more complicated than a momentary blip in her magic. "You mean vows to be married," she said, the words clumping in her throat.

"Aye. Were there any other times?"

"Jokingly, they were all in jest," Fred said quickly, his slow temper rising.

"Runes know nothing of intent, only of meaning," Ollivander said shortly. "Now think. Is that all?"

Hermione swallowed and glanced at Fred. An image of him rubbing her feet came to mind. "Terry's wedding. Then when we were helping Neville out with his proposal. But this is insane, magic doesn't work like this," she said, trying to figure her way out of this situation.

"There's more to magic than you'll ever know, girl. Now think, were there other times?"

"No, no there might have been others," Fred replied, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Seven?"

"Maybe, I don't know, I don't remember."

Ollivander narrowed his eyes at the two of them. "Then I suggest you take a memory potion tonight and pray the gods take pity that you remember. These runes don't appear without reason. I suggest you two spend the night in the same room together and see Allistar Shipton by morning. Otherwise you won't have any further use for me," Ollivander told them solemnly. He handed Hermione to fused wands and stared at the door.

"Yes, yes, we'll do that. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione said softly as they turned to leave, both of them shaken to the core.


	11. Waiting and Brewing

Hermione paced the shop floor, her hands continuously rolling the wands over and over. "This is absolutely impossible. He must be wrong about it," she muttered.

Fred groaned and lay down on the ratty old couch Lee had found outside of a closed down café three years ago. "Love, neither of us understand this. Worrying about it won't do any good until we get an explanation from this Allistar bloke in the morning. We managed to track him down at the Ministry, all we can do now is wait until morning to see him."

"And waiting around won't solve anything," she snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hand against her forehead. It had been a long night for the both of them and yet she was acting as if he was doing nothing more than laze about despite him suggesting that they use his shop to sort things out. "I'm sorry, Fred. That was out of line. This isn't your fault any more than it is mine."

He snorted. "Not according to Ollivander. Apparently the ruin doesn't set until the proposal is accepted seven times. So one of us has the lead on that score. How's the potion coming along?"

Hermione glanced towards the cauldron, still simmering over a low fire. "Still cloudy. Are you sure you brewed it right? The recipe said it would only take thirty minutes and it's almost been an hour."

Fred frowned. "I brewed it exactly as it needed to be."

"Yes, but you've put in five jabborknoll feathers. It only needed four. Not to mention you substituted fae dust for faerie wings. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked as she flipped the potions book back open.

"If you weren't so wound up I'd have thrown you out of my shop for that," Fred said sharply. "I brew at least 30 potions a day in addition to the lines currently in testing. And if you've forgotten by now, they don't give the title of Master Potioneer to anyone off the streets. Even Snape could never achieve that title," he finished sourly.

"Right, right, you're absolutely right," Hermione said quickly. Even this far out of Hogwarts it was still hard for her to admit that she wasn't the expert in the room. "I don't know when the last time I brewed a potion was. But shouldn't it be done by now?"

Fred rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the couch. "The ingredients have been double, so that adds another forty-five minutes at least. The reason there's an extra feather in there is to keep the memories from melding with dreams. The fae dust was substituted in because we're looking specifically for anything that might deal with runic binding, you should remember that at least. And before you ask about the dove's spleen, that was added because we're specifically looking for anything dealing with marriage. So be prepared for some weird dreams tonight. Now calm down before I force a calming drought into you."

Hermione frowned at him. Somewhere in the back of her brain she knew he was right, but her inner seventeen year old still wanted to bicker at him, to find some hole in his explanation to prove she knew better. When she couldn't find some ground to stand on, she sat down in the nearest chair. Thinking about it wasn't going to do her any good. They'd both been thinking through this whole thing since they'd left Ollivander's earlier at 6. They'd been doing nothing but think about it and she was tired of the whole thing already.

Too bad they'd both agreed to keep this mum until they figured out what was going on or she'd have already written Harry and Ron. Though if anyone was bound to think this was a joke it would be those two. Even she had to admit how bizarre this whole thing seemed. They'd taken some sort of vow seven times and it had stuck? It was utter nonsense. Besides, even if it weren't it wasn't as if they couldn't pop down to the Ministry and have things sorted out before Wednesday.

It had to be some sort of mixup. Cosmically if not karmically.

Even if this wasn't a mix-up, it wasn't as if their personalities were a good match. Then again, it wasn't as if they meshed badly. They certainly weren't the volatile mix that she and Ron had been. He had a much cooler head than his brother to start with. And it wasn't as if they spent all that much time alone together in the first place. Yes, they'd become closer over the years, but she still wasn't sure if that was because they were the only two still single in their group of friends or if it was because of a genuine friendship between the two of them.

Not to mention he was still giggling about fart jokes at 33. That alone was cause for concern.

While she set about thinking herself into an even deeper hole, Hermione fiddled with the papers in front of her, scanning the pages for anything interesting. She'd been back here enough to know that anything the twins didn't want seen would be locked away or written with ink meant only for their eyes. Their magic certainly was brilliant and quite creative for the products they came up with, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder if there was a more practical use for their talents.

This hat, for instance. The schematics, if she was reading them right, were similar to the ones they'd sold back in Hogwarts. Put it on and one's head disappeared. Take it off and it reappears. Now it appeared that they'd replaced the invisibility charm with one for shielding. But if they tweaked the wand movements more to the side to activate it, and added in Moonseed to the dye, well then that would lend itself better to hiding in plain sight. That should encourage the looker's eyes to slide away from the wearer, almost like an invisibility shield in plain sight. And a splash of star grass should enhance that effect.

Hermione picked up the self-inking quill and began to scratch notes along the sides of the schematics, adding in her own suggestions on potential applications and markets for the products.

Xxxx

Fred glanced out from underneath his arm when the silence became too much. Hermione was no longer pacing the floor, thank Merlin, and the potion was beginning to smell as it should. He might have stretched the truth about how much longer the potion needed to simmer, but that was more to keep his sanity intact than anything else. As it was they'd both have to take a sleeping drought for the memory potion to have any effect tonight.

In the quiet he was left waiting to figure out why he would have proposed to Hermione Granger of all people. Seven times, even. Or, conversely, why he would have accepted a proposal from her seven times. They were close enough as friends. But even then they weren't as close as, say, he and Harry were. She'd been around for ages, that much was certain. Yet they didn't take pains to spend time together regularly. If he did manage to see her on a regular basis it was only because someone else had planned something, not because he'd dropped her an owl.

Overall though, he could have done much worse than her for a partner. She was intelligent, driven, attractive, and his family loved her. And he did feel some sort of affection towards her, despite that affection he felt towards Verity. Though that was ignoring the massive crush he'd had on her in seventh year. There was that to think of.

A ringing from above the cauldron broke him away from that line of thinking and he stood up quickly, determined to get this over with sooner than later. Hermione glanced up at the sound and dropped the papers quickly, looking for all the world like she had when he'd caught her rummaging through Snape's ingredient closet in her fifth year. She still wouldn't tell him what she was using the syrup of hellebore for.

"Sorry, I was just making a few notes," she said.

He shrugged. "They're George's anyways. Doubt he'll mind," he told her as he checked the cauldron. The liquid was clear as water and as viscous as mud. Perfect for what he was after. "Move those papers from that bench, will you," he said, pointing towards the back wall. When it was cleared, Fred picked up the cauldron by its handle and moved it across the room at a snail's pace. The last thing either of them needed was to waste another hour having to rebrew the potion.

"One pint each then," she said softly.

Fred nodded. "We'll take these after we go upstairs," he said as he scooped the liquid out and carefully measured it into two vials. "Otherwise we'll be just as liable to hit us on our way up."

"Upstairs? We're not staying down here?" Hermione asked, glancing back at the couch.

"Not unless you want to explain to George why you're sleeping on his desk tomorrow morning."

"And Lee?"

"Already turned in for the night. I checked when we flooed in from Ministry Records."

"Right. Upstairs it is," she said as she followed him towards the back of the shop.

"Fifth step creaks, I'd avoid that one," he murmured as he skipped over it. He turned to find Hermione struggling to find her balance and he held out his hand to pull her up. "Sorry, forgot how short your legs were," he said, and for the first time that night her nose scrunched up in irritation rather than worry.

"What is it with Weasley's and short jokes? It's not my fault all of you are abnormally tall," she muttered and Fred smiled. At least after today they were still able to maintain some semblance of normality.

"Perk of genetics, love," he whispered as he stepped into the flat. "You'll find out soon enough how quickly Weasley spawn shoots up," he said. Hermione's face fall back into worry when he realized the implications his words had taken on. "With Victoire and James," he added quickly.

"Yes, right. Of course." She ran a hand through her hand and glanced about the apartment. "I suppose I'll take the couch then."

"Same room, love. Sorry," he reminded her before walking into the dark room he'd long ago claimed as his. He flicked the lights on and headed towards his closet, pulling out a shirt and long pants. "If you'd be more comfortable in these. I'll just leave these here," he offered weakly before laying out a comforter and pillow on the floor.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she closed the door behind her. "I always thought you'd be more chaotic," she murmured.

"Nah. Bad experience with mixing up me and George's cauldron's in first year had me organizing everything from then on. Still can't taste green foods," he said as he picked up his own change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom. When he finished, he pulled two sleeping potions from the medicine cabinet and set one down on the bedside table. He glanced over at Hermione and grinned at how ridiculous she looked in the oversized clothing.

"Oh hush. This is just payback for those shorts, isn't it?"

"No, if I'd wanted that I would have given you that ugly Cannon's orange shirt Ron got me last Christmas," he said with a smile.

Hermione gave a soft chuckle and like that they were back to the uncomfortable silence from before. She cleared her throat before picking up the vial. "This one first?"

Fred nodded. "Then the sleep draught."

"Fred?" she asked, staring at the liquid.

"What is it?"

"We'll make it through this okay, won't we?"

"If we can make it through Fleur's dinner on Boxing Day, we'll survive this easily," he told her before downing his own potions.

xxxx

Managed to make it 11 chapters without need of a filler chapter! But I figured I'd at least have to say something about what happened after they found out. Apologies ahead of time if the next chapter doesn't come out before next week. I'll be running after my cousin later this week so while it may be in my head, that doesn't translate to the computer between work and everything else going on.

And massive thanks to mNmcswain for giving me feedback, much appreciated! Hakuna matata indeed!


	12. Tea and Toast

Hermione woke in a cold sweat, her arm throbbing violently enough to make her nauseous. She shuddered at the morbid patchwork of memories brought on by the potion, her memories of the war still strong enough to interrupt her sleep. In the dark she groped towards her table lamp, knocking into a floor lamp instead. She managed to catch it before it toppled over. Fred's snores broke through her groggy confusion and yesterday's events came to her in a rush.

Willing her stomach to settle Hermione let go of the lamp and pulled off the heavy covers. The memory of Bellatrix's knife and Fenrir's slobbering jowls refused to leave her alone and she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. With the glow of light under the bathroom door Hermione picked her way across the bedroom floor, careful not to step on Fred who'd managed to take up most of the space that wasn't occupied by furniture. She waited at the door a moment until she was certain the apartment was as still as it had been when she'd fallen asleep.

Satisfied that no one else was moving about, Hermione made her way towards the kitchen, desperate for a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. A quick glance at the kitchen clock showed it wasn't yet seven, a good hour before the shop would open and five hours before Allistar Shipton would be available for appointments. And if Lee was anything like the rest of the men in her life, forty-five minutes before he'd finally drag himself out of bed.

As she waited for the kettle to heat up, Hermione began to take note of what she'd managed to remember last night with an old quill and the back of an advertisement for Fortescue's 100th Anniversary Party. What little had come to her in the night was slowly beginning to slip away from her and she feared what else she would remember if she had to take another vial of the foul tasting potion. She jotted down a quick list, pausing only when the kettle began to boil. Once armed with a steaming pot of tea, Hermione sat down at the table and began to write down the relevant portions of her dreams.

 **1\. Bill and Fleur's Wedding – August '97, formal proposal by FW, acceptance by HG acting as proxies for BW and FW. (Only formal proposal recalled; all others were in jest. Binding runes require only require a formal opening or all requests formal? Further, why wouldn't said runes recognize status as proxies? Cf with Unbreakable Vows?)**

 **2\. Olliver's Wedding - Winter '04, HG asked FW to marry (facetiously, of course), FW 'Gladly. Though you'll have to get through Alicia first. She's higher on the list than you these days.' FW and AS break up the year after. Conditional proposal also binding?** **Reread Milokov's 'Binding Runes and You,' esp. re intent behind words.** **Curtens' 'Understanding Runes in Ancient Societies' likely more relevant after Milokov's recent admission of forgery and blatant use of fictional wizardy**

 **3\. Ron's Wedding – November 2005 ? FW proposed, but no memory of an acceptance. Question: Does acceptance have to follow proposal immediately or can it be accepted later?** **Seems unlikely for there to be a gap, but if not, where is acceptance?** **Finnegan's Rule of Quarters likely to apply, see Binding Words of Fealty circa Roman Invasion 55 B.C. and Binding Signs After Norman Invasion in 1066. Also Binding Words of Oath, written out before Gunpowder Plot in 1605 binding all but one conspirator to secrecy**

 **4\. ?**

 **5\. ?**

 **6\. ?**

 **7\. F &GW's Birthday Party – April 1, 2008, HG and FW agreed to marry upon HG's 32 birthday (again, conditional acceptance and tone? Burroughs 'Runes Throughout the Ages' might have historical basis, owl Madame Pince in AM)**

Thirty minutes later, Hermione tapped her quill against the paper in frustration. If only she could remember more she would be better equipped to face this head on. As it was, she was forced to rely on the niche expertise of an unknown man, one who even the Ministry Record Keepers had a hard time tracking down. And they had been lucky enough that the man keep odd enough hours to receive his response at ten o'clock last night. However that wasn't enough to quell her unease.

Sound from Lee's room roused her from her thoughts. She quickly picked up the list and cup, heading back towards Fred's room least Lee discover that she'd spent the night. As much as she adored Lee, he wasn't one to be trusted with a secret, especially one of this magnitude. If they weren't careful, news of their impromptu sleepover would spread like wildfire throughout the whole of wizarding London in as little as an hour. And that was an event Hermione wasn't certain she'd be able to face even on the best of days.

xxxx

Fred woke up slowly, feeling as if he were swimming through black treacle. His mouth had an odd coppery taste to it and his arms felt as if they were made of lead. Eventually he broke the surface of sleep and let out a groan at the dull ache in his back. The next time he had to sleep in the same room with Hermione, secrecy be damned. He'd drag in a second mattress through Diagon Alley if that's what it took. Fighting to open his eyes against the memories that had crowded at the front of his mind, he eventually gave up and rolled over into a patch of sunlight. He scrunched his eyes against the harsh light and pulled the blanket up over his head in an attempt to catch the last few traces of sleep. The heat from the light and the pressure in his bladder forced him out from under the blankets a minute later.

As he stumbled out of the bathroom he glanced over at the brunette sleeping in his bed. Out like a light, but from the cup of tea it appeared she'd waken at some point in the night. And from the silence outside she'd thankfully missed Lee. He yawned as he walked into the kitchen and a glance at the clock showed that it wasn't yet ten. As he filled up the percolator Fred glanced over Hermione's list. Surprisingly he'd remembered more than she had. He jotted down a few quick notes and set about making breakfast enough for two. When he had a few minutes between stirring eggs and flipping pancakes, he rounded out the list with those that he managed to jot down between dreams.

By the time breakfast was ready he was quite pleased with what he'd managed to come up with. He loaded his own plate and sat down at the table, quill in hand for one final review.

 **1\. Bill and Fleur's Wedding – August '97, formal proposal by FW, acceptance by HG standing in for BW and FW. (Only formal proposal recalled; all others were in jest. Binding runes require only require a formal opening or all requests formal? Further, why wouldn't said runes recognize status as proxies? Cf with Unbreakable Vows?)** ** _Formal yes, but how would this rune know if one's only acting as stand-in's for another? Seems like there'd have to be something said about being a proxy before hand. Ancient magic has always been one for bloody awful rituals. Then again, it was French custom; wouldn't be surprised if they did it to get us back for beating them so roundly in '77's World Cup._**

 **2.** ** _FW's Gloriously Spectacular Recovery After the War – June 98, HG brought FW pain potions, FW responded jokingly 'Keep this up and I'll ask you to marry me,' HG 'Suppose that means I'll have to say yes when you finish them?'. If Ollivander's to be believed, seven's the magic number so it looks like conditional proposals are binding. Unless we've forgotten other proposals?_**

 **3.** **2.** **Oliver's Wedding - Winter '04, HG asked FW to marry (facetiously, of course), FW 'Gladly. Though you'll have to get through Alicia first.' FW and AS break up the year after. Conditional proposal also binding?** **Reread Milokov's 'Binding Runes and You,' esp. re intent behind words.** **Curtens' 'Understanding Runes in Ancient Societies' likely more relevant after Milokov's recent admission of forgery and blatant use of fictional wizardy.** ** _Curtens' just as much of a windbag as Milokov, Ursela Kemp's more trustworthy if you're wanting to research old uses of runes. And almost all shops use conditional runes for anti-theft. If product isn't paid for, a hex is set off when the product passes under the runes written into the doorways. Similar use of runic binding words here I'd reckon._**

 **4.** **3.** **Ron's Wedding – November 2005 ? FW proposed, but no memory of an acceptance. Question: Does acceptance have to follow proposal immediately or can it be accepted later?** **Seems unlikely for there to be a gap, but if not, where is acceptance?** **Finnegan's Rule of Quarters likely to apply, see Binding Words of Fealty circa Roman Invasion 55 B.C. and Binding Signs After Norman Invasion in 1066. Also Binding Words of Oath, written out before Gunpowder Plot in 1605 binding all but one conspirator to secrecy.** ** _Trying for Binn's job again? He's the only one who remembers things like this. And if the memory potion did the trick, your exact words were 'Yes, because that would solve all my problems.' Don't think runic words understand sarcasm. At least they didn't when Lee told Prof. Babbling he'd rather turn into a toad than translate another set of Russian Runes. Ended up in the infirmary for three days trying to turn him back into himself when she assigned another ten inches of Russian during class. He still hasn't been able to get rid of all the warts_**

 **5\. ?** ** _5 &6 – Neville figuring out how to propose to Bones – Whenever the Gryffindor Reunion was. '05 or '06? Another formal proposal from me, and one more proposal from you when we were trying to help him find what to say. So that's four for me, two for you. Not that I'm counting _**

**7\. F &GW's Birthday Party – April 1, 2008, HG and FW agreed to marry upon HG's 32 birthday (again, conditional acceptance and intention? Burroughs 'Runes Throughout the Ages' might have historical basis, owl Madame Pince in AM)  
** ** _Conditional runes would explain the loss of magic after you turned 32. And you popping in when I went to kiss Valerie. Unless you've started a stalking campaign, in which case I have to warn you not to hide behind the exploding postcards next to the counter. Nasty business if you stare at them too long_**

By the time he'd finished marking up the list, Hermione shuffled in looking almost as apprehensive as she had last night. In any other circumstance Fred would offer a flippant comment, but now that the reality of the situation had set in he couldn't bring himself to it.

"Might want to tuck in. Still another hour before this Shipton bloke rolls out of bed and we can't have you fainting in his office from hunger," he said lightly before biting into a piece of toast.

Hermione nodded, still lost in her own thoughts, and set about making her own plate. When she sat down across from him, Fred pushed the list and quill over to her.

"Added my own notes to yours," he told her. The rest of the hour was spent in silence as they waited for the minutes to tick down to noon.


	13. Runes, Romans, and Relationships

Hermione took a deep breath, clutching at the list in her hand. She glanced at Fred who wore an uncharacteristic scowl, the comically oversized tea cup in his hand a second away from shattering. After being trapped in Allistar Shipton's small office for two hours, and having gotten no further than they were when they came in, she was longing to break something too. Preferably the strange porcelain faeries that lined the walls and stared unblinkingly at them.

"Mr. Shipton, please, if you'll just listen-"

"Allistar, Hermione. Mr. Shipton is far too" the small, balding man interrupted, waving his hands about as if he were about to pull the word from the air around them, "conventional."

She cleared her throat and began again. "Allistar, then. We're here because Mr. Ollivander said you were the foremost expert where our wands were concerned."

"Foremost pillock," Fred muttered darkly next to her. Hermione shot him a darker look before continuing.

"So if you could just tell us why our wands are fused together."

Allistar narrowed his eyes before spinning his chair around to face the large bay window behind his desk. He began to tap his foot to some unheard music, his chair swaying in time to the beat. "Afraid I won't be much help my dear. I've no knowledge about marital difficulties firsthand, or even second hand. Allergic to most people's constitutions, you know. I'd suggest you try one of those Muggle priests if you're desperate. Last I heard they've been working on counseling for years, something about using guilt and bribery to keep marital peace." Hermione opened her mouth to try once more, but Allistar was quick to cut her off. "And if that doesn't work, I'd suggest a nice couple like yourselves try for a holiday down in the Mediterranean. I hear it's quite nice this time of year, though I'd suggest you avoid the islands close to land. Fall's the mating season of the nymph, after all."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Fred's face slowly flushing with anger. She winced as he slammed the tea cup down hard on the desk, shattering it across the dark wood and embedding shards of it in his hand. She winced as the blood began to flow, but Fred paid it little mind. "Listen, _Allistar_ ," he hissed. "We've been sitting here listening to you rant on and on about every barmy conspiracy theory that you've ever heard, down to the idea that someone is tainting Bertie Bot's with veritiserum, yet you won't even give us the same curtesy. So you'll have to excuse me when I ask that you kindly shut the hell up and listen to what someone else has to say for the first time in your life."

Alistar's chair came to a stop as the air in the room stilled enough that Hermione found it hard to take a breath. Whoever this man was it was quickly becoming apparent that Hermione wanted as little to do with him as possible. For all the innocence his eccentric act gave off there was something stronger and darker laying just underneath it. For a moment Hermione feared that they had wandered in the lair of a beast much larger than the Death Eater's she'd once faced.

Just as quickly, the air began moving again and she found them both gasping in air. Fred leaned against the desk breathing hard.

"Mr. Weasley, is it? Of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes? Fourteen inch walnut, unicorn hair core. Made in 1938 by Gervaise Ollivander, one of the working wands he made before he lost the use of his hands during the war. And cedar wood. How very interesting. And yet, no trace of Garrick's magic to be found in the splice. You do know that altering a wand, even if it is your own, is at least a two year restriction on one's magic, don't you?"

Fred still beside her and he swallowed hard, his face going ashen at the thinly veiled threat. Despite her continuous inspection of the wands, Hermione hadn't been able to discern that there had been a splicing of wood, and even more troubling, neither had Ollivander himself.

"And the lovely Ms. Granger. Or should I say Mrs. Weasley now? I'm sure that will be one to hit the front page of the papers," Allistar said lightly, spinning his chair back around to face them, a pleasant smile plastered onto his face once more. "Ten and three quarters, vine wood. Dragon heartstring. Though, personally, I'd have advised you to go with walnut first. But then again, that insecurity you still drag behind you would never have taken to the wood. That's why you were burned by the first wand you ever tried, isn't it? A twelve and a half walnut wand with a phoenix core. Picky wood, walnut," he said quietly, gazing at the two of them.

"Who are you?" Hermione whispered, gripping the arms of the chair to keep from running out the door. No one outside of her parents and Ollivander himself knew of her first experience with a wand, one that burned her hand so badly she'd had to be forced back into Ollivander's to try a second wand.

"No one you need to know about, Ms. Granger," his said with a wink. "Now, Mr. Weasley. As much as it pains me to admit to fault, you do have a fair point about my keen ability to answer the question I want to hear rather than answer the one asked. Please, continue, Ms. Granger," Allistar said pleasantly enough.

Hermione caught Fred's eye and found that he was just as rattled as she was about the knowledge this man knew about the both of them. "Mr. Ship-, Allistair. Our wands fused together yesterday evening and we're not certain of the cause," she said quietly.

"So you've said. Go on," he said, staring at Fred as if daring him to have another outburst.

"When we went to see Mr. Ollivander about it, he suggested that we contact you."

Allistar sat back in his chair and gauged each in turn, neither wanting to hold his gaze for long. "And pray tell, why would that old mothball do that? We haven't been on speaking terms since '57 when I disproved his theory that phoenix feather was the most stable core. I'm afraid you'll have to give me more details than fused wands."

And they did. The two took turns explaining about how they'd both lost the ability to control their magic almost four weeks ago. About how they'd both apparated against their will to where the other was engaged in amorous pursuits with someone else. About the spell's blue light and Ollivander's cryptic words about proposals and marriage. And finally, as Hermione slid their list across the desk, about the seven proposals and the seven acceptances.

The older wizard sat stone faced through their story until he began to read over the list. Hermione bit her cheek as he tutted through it, trying her best to keep from pushing him for a quick answer. "Did you bring your wands with you? Of course you did, what sensible witch or wizard wouldn't in these circumstances," he said, holding his hand out towards them expectantly.

Fred slowly pulled the pair of wands from his inside pocket and reluctantly handed them to the man. The pair watched as Allistar turned their wands over and over, inspecting them from all angles and muttering to himself. "I really must compliment you on this splicing, Mr. Weasley," Allistar finally said. "I haven't seen this kind of quality in an amateur in a long time. Perhaps Ollivander begin thinking of taking on an apprentice once more," he said before breaking out in laughter. Whatever the joke was, it was lost on his audience.

"Well, I can say that this is the first time I've ever seen a situation like yours in the flesh," Allistar finally said. "So congratulations on being the first in a long, long time to surprise me. And, I suppose, congratulations are in order for your nuptials as well."

Hermione's eyes flew wide open and her chest began to tighten. "Oh god," she whispered, her face turning ashen.

"Are you certain?" Fred asked weakly. He had slumped down in his chair, any fight still left of him now gone.

"Almost entirely," Allistar said with the certainty of a weather forecaster. "With everything you've told me, it's the only logical conclusion. 'Seven times asked, seven times answered, happy be they who promise to each other, let none come between their love.' Loosely translated from Celtic, of course."

"Of course," Fred rasped.

"But, how?" Hermione asked sharply, desperate to find some way out of this.

To her disappointment, Allistar only shrugged. "How do any of the runes work? Far greater minds than ours have asked this and have fallen quite short. All I can tell you is that the runic words that the two of you are now bound by are far older than we have record of. The first mention of it is in Herodotus' writings, and even then it's less than three sentences. 'A rune passed down to ensure proper lineage of the Celtic clans, even moreso to ensure that the alliances were being entered into freely and joyfully.'

"Of course, Cassius Dio charged that it was mostly to circumvent the forced marriages that happened as the Romans invaded Britain. He was convinced that Roman wizards were merely trying to shore up their own magic lines with Celtic stock, and this was just one more way that the Celts were able to defy Roman plans."

"Why we kept popping in on each other, I'd imagine," Fred said miserably.

Allistar nodded. "Precisely. Once the last proposal was accepted, or in your case the conditions for the last proposal were met, the runes began to draw you towards each other whenever there is a possibility that an illegitimate child could be produced. Violently, if need be."

Fred shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at the idea that his future was no longer entirely his own. "I don't suppose we have to consummate this marriage thing to get our magic back," he asked, flushing at the nature of his question.

"Merlin, no," Allistar said with a laugh. "The ancients weren't that sadistic. The runes only require that the two of you spend enough time together that your magic replenishes itself. That's why your wands are now stuck closer together than Fudge and his candy jar ever were. It was the last proposal bound you two together, the agreement that you would marry after your 32nd birthday. That was what, a month ago?" Hermione nodded. "Once the runes bound the two of you together, your magic became intertwined. Yet you were separated for so long after the binding that neither of you were producing the magic necessary to cast spells. So your wands had to draw together to share the little bit of magic still left in them before their cores broke for good. Far smarter than most people give them credit for," Allistar said fondly as he glanced towards his own wand.

"And our magic?" Fred asked.

"Will only be replenished the longer you two stay in close proximity to each other. I'm afraid that if you want even a chance of your magic returning you'll have to learn how to be each other's shadows. And if you don't, well. Let's just hope you have muggle relatives willing to teach you a trade."

Hermione frowned at his flippant dismissal of their situation. "But what will we do in the meantime? There's got to be something we can do. An annulment of some sort. They'll have to grant it if the relationship hasn't been consummated."

"Annulment?" Allister asked, glancing at Fred who shrugged.

"Yes, for the marriage. There has to be something the Ministry can do to void the marriage and make it as if it never took place," she said with a nod, satisfied that she'd finally found a way out of the problem.

Allistar shook his head and smiled sadly. "I'm afraid once the runes are cast they can't be undone."

"A divorce then," Hermione said, a note of desperation lacing her words as she grasped at any hope of salvation. "It's really quite common these days, nothing to be afraid of."

"No, I'm afraid you don't understand," Allistar said softly in a way that on any other person might be seen as pity. "Once you're bound by runes they can never be undone. Even in death, runes stand firm."

"It's why no one but the pure blood fanatics use runes in their ceremonies. Otherwise it leads to some nasty relationships," Fred murmured. "Mum always warned us against certain words, but I don't think this is what she meant."

Colorful dots began to swim in front of her eyes and Hermione's stomach began to roil. An unwanted marriage, one that could never be undone. One that could jerk her back into the world of her parents, away from the splendor and happiness she'd found. "Final on both parties," she breathed. The room was silent as the reality of their situation began to set in.

"We never agreed to this," Fred argued, against who Hermione wasn't sure.

Allistar raised an eyebrow at his tone but chose to ignore it. "But you did. Seven times, in fact. Otherwise you would not be bound in marriage."

"We didn't mean it," Fred said, biting the words off one by one. His sudden flash of anger quickly cooled into despair and he slumped in his chair.

The room begin to tilt and Hermione clutched the arms of her chair, closing her eyes against the suddenly too bright lights of the office.

"The runes don't care if you meant it. They only care if the binding words were said. All that matters is seven times asked, seven times answered. A single no would have kept the runes from binding, yet here you are. Despite it's complex underpinnings, it's really quite simple at its heart," Allistar said matter-of-factly.

Hermione had to strain to hear him over the rushing in her ears.

"Then how do we fix it?" Fred asked, his voice sounding miles away as Hermione tried to calm herself.

Allistar shrugged. "Learn to live with each other. Try to learn to love another if possible. And for Merlin's sake, make sure you replace that tea cup, young man."

xxxx

Hey look two updates in two days! Many thanks to mNmcswain for pointing out the Swiss cheese in all of this.


	14. Platitudes

"What are we going to do Fred?" Hermione asked softly, taking little comfort from the warm coffee cup in her hands.

Fred sighed and ran his hand down his face. He could tell her any number of platitudes, that they'd find some way out of this; that they'd make it through all right; that they were mature enough to make this work. But he knew anything he said would be a lie. The truth was he didn't know what they were going to do, and that thought alone terrified him.

"I don't know," he admitted.

They sat in silence, Hermione staring down at her quickly cooling coffee, Fred staring off into the distance, both trying to find the words to say.


	15. Lucy and Desi

Hours later the two found themselves tucked away in a quiet corner discussing the practicalities of the situation.

"My flat's no good. Lee's always running around starkers, not to mention the kitchen's being used as a break room for the employees lately," Fred said as he stirred his coffee.

"Mine, then," Hermione said with a sigh. She sipped at her tea before continuing. "You can take the spare bedroom for now.

Fred shook his head and picked at the biscuit he'd ordered hours before. "Same room, remember?"

"Damn. Lucy and Desi beds for now I suppose." He glanced up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Hermione shook her head, too tired to explain. "I'll review the lease tomorrow to see if we can enlarge the room. It's doubtful it will destabilize the structure, but Mr. Finch never has liked me so I'm sure it will take two weeks longer than it needs to. It will be hard enough getting you added to the lease without him telling everyone he knows in London that I'm having a man move in."

He snorted. "Still haven't decided how we're going to explain to everyone why we're moving in together. I doubt we can convince everyone we're madly in love or the Lee drove me out because of his Taco Tuesdays."

Hermione pushed her cold tea away from her and frowned. Ever since they'd arrived she hadn't been able to chase away the constant gnawing thought that her life was on a collision course with something she still didn't completely understand. Something that even now she wanted to avoid thinking about for the time being. "Then we'll have to wait on that until we come up with something. I hope you're still as good at sneaking around as you were in Hogwarts."

"Come now, love, it sounds as if you doubt me," Fred said, cracking a miserable smile. "If anything Lee will think I'm staying over with Valerie which will help explain my absence until we can get our wands separated."

"With any luck. The hard part will be trying to keep Harry and Ron from rushing over with poorly made soup and Pep-Me-Up potions when they hear I'm taking sick time. You'd think after all this time they'd realize I could take care of myself."

"They're worried is all. Though I wouldn't suggest eating anything Ron calls soup. Last time he cooked soup for anyone we all ended up in St. Mungo's with a nasty round of food poisoning. Mum hasn't let him near the kitchen since," Fred said with a shudder.

"Oh? And when was that?" she asked, curious when she realized she'd never heard this particular story.

"When he was five," Fred told her with a grin. "One of his friends down the road got the dragon-pox and he decided to 'help' Mum's recipe along by adding every spice known to man, along with the dish soap, compost bucket, and half a pound of raw chicken."

Hermione laughed softly at the image and for the first time that night her eyes met Fred's as they began to share stories of their childhoods, neither wanting to dwell on the long road before them.


	16. Morning Toast

"Hermione, I'm in the kitchen and I've brought soup," Harry's voice called out, waking Hermione from a deep slumber.

She rolled over and squinted at the blinking numbers by her bedside. 5:51. Of course Harry would drop by before work. Which meant that Ron would drop by after seven once his shift ended.

Fighting back the urge to burrow under her covers, Hermione reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. Below her, Fred rolled away from the light and she had to step over him to reach the door. She tugged her robe around her before slipping out the door and closing it softly behind her. From the doorway she could see Harry helping himself to her refrigerator and she smiled at the familiarity of it. It had been years since she, Harry, and Ron had shared a flat, yet their presence always made her feel like all was right with the world.

"There's apple butter in the door," she said as she padded into the kitchen.

"Thanks," Harry said before his head disappeared into her refrigerator once more. "How are you feeling? Your boss owled and said you were taking a few days off," he said, a note of worry in his voice despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Hermione's stomach churned at the guilt of not telling him why she was taking off and she wrapped her arms around herself. "He did? I told him it wasn't anything serious. Probably just a stomach bug," she lied. She stared out the dark window as her guilt grew at how easy it was to lie to Harry.

"Not surprised you picked it up. Almost all of my students have missed class in the last month. I'll have Poppy send you something for it," Harry told her as he sat down at her kitchen table, butter in one hand, toast in the other.

She forced a smile. "Thanks."

"Oh, and Teddy said to tell you your lecture on the history of centaur relations was, and I quote, 'The most interesting thing to happen in History of Magic since Binns fell asleep at his own lecture.' Wish I could have made it, but you know how it is with Boorman. If anyone is going to be allergic to anything it will be him. Haven't seen that much pus to come out of a person since Ron vomited up all those slugs," Harry said as he shoved another piece of toast in his mouth.

Her nose wrinkled at the sight of his half-chewed food and Harry swallowed hard. "Sorry Hermione. Forgot about the nausea." He took another bite and thankfully didn't question her further about her supposed ailment. "Anyways, just wanted to pop in and check on you. Ron'll be by later tonight, and Gin's chicken soup is in the fridge. She said to warn you not to label anything Ron might call 'soup.' Something to do with her uncle's pocket watch and raw chicken," he said with a shrug.

"Tell Ginny thanks for the soup," Hermione said as she watched him levitate his empty dishes to the sink. Harry rose to leave, stopping to plant a kiss on her head before he made his way to her fireplace.

"Thanks for stopping in Harry," she said with a smile.

"Anytime, Hermione. Take care of yourself, Hermione," he said before flooing out.

If only it were that easy.


	17. Evening Lo Mein

All together, their first day spent together had gone rather well. After breakfast they'd set up in separate corners in the spare bedroom and after a brief spat over who needed more desk space, Fred had settled for dragging the kitchen table into the room. The rest of the day was spent on their respective work with only minor comments about borrowing quills and whether to have sandwiches or take out for lunch. And if both were honest they'd agree that it was a nice change of pace from their regular work space.

Hermione had been quite surprised to find that, when necessary, Fred could focus on something for hours on end. Though he had been running a fair successful business for over a decade, she had always assumed that it was George who did most of the business end of things, leaving Fred for front of the shop work. In her eyes it was Fred who was the more flamboyant and attention seeking of the two, especially after George had become a father of two. Yet this side of Fred only reminded her that she wasn't sure that she really knew either of them well enough outside of their public personas. And not well enough to comfortably share a flat with the man for at least the next month.

For his part Fred was far more surprised at how fidgety and noisy Hermione had become. At school he recalled her policing noise in the study spaces as if it were her job. Now she was constantly murmuring to herself, her left foot tapping in time to an unknown beat as she tried to find the right word. If he hadn't been so used to constant interruptions at the shop he might have been annoyed when she jumped up five times in ten minutes to grab yet another book or roll of parchment. As it was her movements and soft voice were a welcome break to the yawning silence that otherwise overtook the small room.

It wasn't until long after seven that Hermione's stomach began to remind her that she hadn't eaten in far too long. Finding a stopping point for the night, she set down her quill and stretched, her back popping with the movement. As if in agreement Fred's stomach began to growl.

"Dinner then?" Fred asked with a yawn.

She nodded and pushed her chair in. "I think Harry brought enough soup over for the both of us if you don't mind sandwiches again.

He yawned again and pushed the stack of papers away from him before following her into the kitchen.

"Bowls are to the right of the sink and spoons are to the left," Hermione told him when he began to open cabinets at random.

While they set about preparing their modest dinner, both struggled to find something to say to the other that wouldn't bring up what Fred had begun referring to as 'the-problem-that-shall-not-be-named.' Neither wanted to be to first to broach the subject lest it lead to the inevitable feelings of helplessness that always came along with it. All of Fred's humor and wit escaped him as he realized that he didn't know her well enough to know what subjects wouldn't lead to a discussion of what they were hurtling towards, while Hermione's practicality and need to plan failed miserably to keep her from thinking of anything else.

Eventually Hermione found herself struggling with the need to say something to him about it, and she decided to broach the conversation lightly as she was putting together the sandwiches. "I do recall reading something about binding spells years ago at Hogwarts, though –"

Pounding on the door interrupted Hermione and she glanced wide-eyed at Fred. "Ron," she whispered.

Fred jumped out of the seat and threw the remains of his soup into the sink. "Shit, shit, shit," he growled as he raced through the living room, gathering up his jacket, shoes, and any other indication of his presence he could grab.

"Hermione, let me in will you? Your wards keep bouncing me back to the Ministry and it's bloody cold out here," Ron called from outside.

"Just a moment, Ron, let me get a robe on," she yelled back as she followed behind Fred, grabbing up their notes from the night before.

"Come on, it's not as if I haven't seen it before," Ron whined and Fred swore he could hear his brother stomping his foot. "My bollocks are freezing off out here."

Hermione muttered something about men and babies as she snatched the rest of the books off the table. "Then it's a good thing Daphne's got at least one child from you. I doubt she'll miss them."

Fred's snicker turned into a muffled yelp as the locks on the front door clicked open. Without any hesitation Hermione shoved him into the hallways closet, throwing the papers and books in after him. "Not a word," she hissed as she shut the door.

He knocked lightly on the door and she opened it an inch, glaring at him. A lesser man might have wet himself at her look. Instead Fred held out an old housecoat at her. "Robe?" Her glare darkened as she snatched it from him before slamming the door.

"What is it now Ron?" Hermione's voice carried through the wood and Fred could hear hinges creaking as his brother shoved his way into the flat.

"This is the thanks I get after walking halfway across London to bring you your favorite sick food?" Ron said sarcastically. Shadows passed in front of the closet and Fred leaned against the wall, waiting for another of the famous Weasley-Granger arguments to break out at his tone.

"Thank you, but you couldn't have waited another minute? I could have been naked for all you knew." Hermione's voice grew softer and Fred assumed they moved into the kitchen.

"It's snowing out there Hermione, did you want me to go ahead and get frostbite? Mum would kill me if I were missing fingers in the Christmas photos. Besides, when have you ever gone about your apartment naked?"

Hermione murmured something that was too soft for Fred to catch, even with his ear pressed against the door. Whatever it was amused Ron enough that he snorted. "If that ever happened I'd have my money on the squirrel and the towel. Harry told me you were looking bad this morning. Take it you're feeling better?"

Fred sighed and clicked on the overhead light. Of all the nights Ron wanted to have a civil conversation and he was stuck in the closet without supper. While the two in the kitchen conversed about Merlin only knew what he slid down the wall and tried to make himself comfortable as he read back over their notes.

xxxx

"I take it you're feeling better?" Ron asked as he began to pull out of the grocery sack on the counter.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded as she moved out of his line of sight. Unlike Harry, Ron always had a six sense about when she was lying to him especially at the worst moments possible. "A bit. Ginny's soup seems to have helped settle my stomach."

He scoffed and pulled out another box. "Of course she'd send you soup. She always did like you better. Last time I was sick she only asked if I'd go pick up last minute food for her baby shower."

"That's because when you're sick you treat it as a national crises." The aroma of the cheap, greasy food drew her back towards the bench and she began picking through the boxes. "Did you really go all the way to Dartford to get me lo mein?"

"Before you start getting all sentimental just know I had to warp up a case down there and figured I'd grab you some. You always did prefer wonton soup and lo mein for a hangover, figured it'd be the same with a stomach bug," Ron said as he balled up the plastic sack and shoved it into his jacket pocket.

"That's very sweet of you," she told him, grateful that she now had more in her cupboard than ingredients for sandwiches and a very poor stew.

He shrugged and began to say something but stopped suddenly. "What'd you do with the kitchen table?" he asked as he looked around the kitchen.

Hermione blanched. "What kitchen table?"

"Your kitchen table. It's gone." Ron frowned at her in concern. "Are you sure you don't need to see someone?"

She laughed and shook her head, inwardly wincing at the note of hysteria in her voice. "No, I'm quite alright. Why do you ask?"

Ron's frown deepened and he raised his hand to check her temperature. When he did so he hit a glass filled with pumpkin juice Fred had missed on the counter. Ron glanced at the glass then back at a nearly identical one next to Hermione. "Two glasses?"

Hermione gave him a pained smile and shrugged. "I must have forgotten about that one. You know what the flu does to ones' head. Perhaps I should go lie down," she said weakly as she turned towards the bedroom. She started when Ron began to follow her down the hallway. "Where are you going?"

"To get you extra blankets from the spare bedroom. You always keep them in there," he told her as he stepped around her.

In a burst of adrenaline fueled panic Hermione flew by him and slammed the door to the room shut. "No, that's quite alright. Quite comfortable with what I have," she told him, the doorknob digging into her back.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Sure you don't need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Hermione shook her head furiously. "No, not at all. A bit of rest is all I need I'm sure. Thanks for stopping by," she said quickly.

He stared at her for a moment before turning back towards the kitchen. "Alright. But if you need anything don't hesitate to owl. Daph'll be up most of the night with the baby. He's been fussy ever since he started teething."

"I will," Hermione said as she followed him towards the door.

"I can see myself out, you know," Ron said as he stopped in the doorway. "And I promise I won't knick the silverware."

"Right, of course you can. I was just making sure that the, uh, the food was put up. Don't want to chance food poisoning on top of the flu," she said as cheerfully as she could in an attempt to cover up her nervousness.

"Look Hermione, I'm starting to think you really should go see a doctor."

"No doctors needed, quite fine, thanks for coming," she said as she tried to push him out the door. Ron didn't budge, no surprise considering he'd always been at least two stones heavier than her. He furrowed his brow, ready to say something else but thought better of it as he stepped outside.

Hermione sighed and leaned against the front door, grateful that Ron now had other obligations that kept him from being able to spend the rest of the night trying to pry information out of her. A knocking came from the inside of her hall closet and she jumped.

"Is he gone yet? My legs are asleep."

"Yes, he's gone. You can come out of the closet now Fred."

The closet door creaked open and Fred stretched his legs out into the hallway. "Not the first time I've been told that," he said with a grin.

Hermione huffed and stalked off towards the kitchen, intent on claiming the lo mein before Fred could realize it was there.


End file.
